Circle of Lies

by Paul J. Teague

  To reach the stone jetty, she had to pass the Midland Hotel, where the police were active at the side of the rotunda. The alternative was to walk all the way around the hotel and make her approach from the other side. That still took her directly past the rotunda, but she’d have to risk it.

  The irony of the lifeboat station being directly opposite the hotel was not lost on her, but there was no way she was leaving Olli while they assembled the crew and launched the boat. She thought quickly. She was committed to the long walk along the stone jetty. She’d been along there already, earlier that morning. Where had they left Olli? Was he near the rocks that marked the end of the jetty, where they’d often watched the waves crashing on their numerous walks along the sea front?

  She committed to her plan. While she was running the length of the jetty, she’d call Nigel, then Will. They could alert the police and lifeguard while she was searching for Olli.

  Charlotte took out her phone and slung the bag over the edge on a fence post. It would only encumber her. She began to hurry past the Midland Hotel, burying the phone into the right side of her face to conceal herself. She called Nigel, who was eager to hear from her.

  ‘Where did you get to? All hell has broken loose in here. DCI Summers is working overtime, and they’ve taken Edward Callow…’

  ‘Nigel, I don’t care. You need to listen and do what I say. Olli’s life depends on it. You have to alert the lifeboat and tell them that Olli is out at the end of the stone jetty somewhere. Do that now. Then, in five minutes time, I need you to speak to DCI Summers and tell her to send her officers to the end of the jetty. She’ll get all the explanations she needs if she does that, and she’ll find me there.’

  ‘But Charlotte…’

  ‘Just do it, Nigel, we’ll speak later.’

  She ended the call.

  She’d passed the rotunda now. The police officers were too busy to even care about her, assuming that she was just another member of the public out on an evening walk.

  The sea breeze rushed over her, making her shiver in her unsuitable clothes. She began to jog, clicking the auto-dial to get in contact with Will.

  ‘Charlotte, where are you?’ he asked.

  He sounded brighter, thank goodness.

  ‘Will, I know where Olli is, but he’s still in danger. I need you to alert the lifeboat, just in case Nigel doesn’t…’

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ He appeared sharper over the phone; that was a good sign.

  ‘I don’t have time to talk,’

  ‘I need to tell you something…’

  ‘Will, it has to wait! Alert the lifeboat and get over to the stone jetty as soon as you can. Do it now!’

  She paused a moment, uncertain whether to say it. She’d seen what these people could do.

  ‘I love you, Will. Whatever happens, remember I love you and the kids.’

  ‘But Charlotte, what are you doing?’

  ‘Call the lifeguard, Will. Now.’

  She ended the call and dropped her phone on the ground. If Nigel did as he was told, she had a head start on the police. It would save the endless explanation and delay. The lifeboat crew would get at least one call, if not two, so however this played out now, help was on its way. It was the best she could do in the time that she had.

  Fishing boats bobbed about in the sea at her side as she prayed that she would find Olli somewhere safe, perhaps at the rear of the café or tied to the fencing at the jetty’s edge. But they could have secured him among the heavy rocks which surrounded the jetty, where local fishermen often set up their equipment when the tide was low.

  As she reached the Stone Jetty Café, she called Olli’s name. Would they gag him? Probably; the jetty was a public area. They’d have to conceal him somewhere out of view.

  She rushed to the rear of the café, calling his name, checking he wasn’t hidden in the shadows. There was no sign of him. Growing more desperate, Charlotte began to run as fast as she could towards the end of the jetty, ignoring the pain of the tight shoes and the cut in her foot.

  Just before the final section of the jetty was a circular area, much like an asphalt roundabout, from which two concrete platforms ran, suspended over the rocks below and shooting out towards the sea. Had they left Olli at the end of either of these? Charlotte paused a moment, fretting over her three choices at this fork; left, right, or straight ahead?

  There were still a few people walking along the jetty. How would a killer think? Where would they have secured Olli? It had to be the head of the jetty, below the platform that reached out into the sea. It had to be.

  Charlotte continued to run ahead, aiming straight for the end of the jetty. But as she reached the narrow pathway that would take her there, she realised that the tide was already high. Her only accessible route, without leaping into the water, was to climb over the fence and scramble along the rocks so she could access the space beneath the platform. Olli had to be there. It was the only place that made sense.

  She climbed over the fence at the point where the water was now washing over the tops of the rocks.

  ‘Hey, careful luv, it’s dangerous out there!’

  A middle-aged couple were walking hand in hand just ahead of her.

  ‘When the police come, tell them this is where I am,’ she shouted at him.

  ‘Jesus bloody Christ, Hilda, I think she’s topping herself!’

  Charlotte ignored the man as he ran towards her.

  ‘You can’t even swim, Frank! Be careful…’ his wife shouted after him.

  The wind and the waves were all Charlotte could hear now, and they seemed even wilder out there. She struggled to find her footing amid the heavy rocks, their hazardous gaps waiting to catch her feet in the dark. She was in the icy cold water already. It was swirling around her knees, making the bottom of her dress heavy and wet.

  To her right she could see the flashing lights of the lifeboat being readied for launch. Help would come soon, but would it be too late?

  As the stones tapered lower towards the sea, the water came higher up her body, past her waist.

  ‘Olli!’ she shouted, straining in the dark to find her son.

  A life belt hit the water somewhere nearby, and she looked up at the fencing high above her. She’d quickly moved from the safety of the jetty, with nothing now to support her, blindly making her way across water-covered rocks towards the furthest end of the viewing platform.

  ‘Hang onto that, luv; we’ve called for help!’

  Although Charlotte had heard about the currents of the bay, she’d barely paid any attention, but she could feel the force of the water swirling all around her, tussling with her body as she struggled to stay upright on the rocks. She was at the side of the platform now, the metal supports looming above her. Olli had to be there. If he wasn’t, she didn’t know what to do next. Then, she saw something; a silhouette moving ahead of her. It was a head, thrashing around in the water, directly in front of her. It had to be him.

  ‘Olli, it’s Mum! I’m coming…’ she began to shout, but a powerful wave washed across her face, filling her mouth with water and catching her mid breath. In a panic, she slid on the rock that she was standing on, ducking into the water. Now completely immersed, she thrashed her legs around, frantically trying to find a place where she could stand again.

  The currents were pulling her one way then another, like spiteful children arguing over who should have a toy. As she found her footing, she snorted seawater out of her nose and mouth, spluttering uncontrollably as she found her breath once again.

  Olli didn’t have long. Forcing her legs downwards, Charlotte found a rock. She’d been pulled closer to the iron framework which supported the viewing platform at the end of the jetty. With all her might, she thrust her body at one of the heavy posts ahead of her, trying to get a firm grip. She caught it and clung on for dear life.

  She could see Olli now in the reflections of moonlight on the water under the platform. He’d seen her too, his eyes terri
fied and ablaze with fear. His mouth had been taped, and he was fighting to draw breath through his nose as the waves crashed around him.

  Charlotte waited for the swell to subside, then forced herself towards her son, reaching out and grasping him.

  ‘I’m here, Olli. I’m so sorry…’

  She tore the tape from his mouth. He took a big gasp of air, but a wave washed over him, submerging him.

  As the water rolled back, he coughed and spluttered, while Charlotte fought desperately to find the ties that secured him to the bottom of the viewing platform. She found them under the water with her cold, numb fingers. They’d used secure, plastic ties, and there was no way she could release those without a knife or scissors.

  ‘I’m scared Mum, help me. I can’t get out of these ties…’

  ‘I can’t cut them, Olli. They’re too secure…’

  A wave crashed over their heads, submerging them both for over twenty seconds. Once the water had subsided, they had a moment to fight for their breath, but it returned as quickly as it went. Charlotte could feel herself weakening, the strength wrestled out of her by the sea.

  ‘I don’t want to die, Mum… I’m scared.’

  As another wave crashed over them, she could feel her son’s body shaking uncontrollably, through fear and cold.

  ‘It’s okay, Olli. I’m with you… I’ll stay with you. I would never leave you on your own.’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  ‘She’s back with us.’

  Charlotte could barely move her stiff, cold hands and her lungs were burning as if somebody had just poured molten lead down them. She was wrapped in a silver foil blanket and paramedics bustled all around her, focused and intent on their work.

  ‘Take your time, my darling,’ the man said. ‘You’ve had one hell of a night out there.’

  In the distance, she could hear Will protesting. Even with all that activity around her, she could pick out his voice.

  ‘That’s my wife and my son, let me through. It was me who alerted the rescue crew…’

  ‘Where’s Olli?’ she asked, but her voice felt like it had been shredded, and it was hard to make herself heard.

  The medic put his ear close to her face.

  ‘My son. Where is he?’

  ‘It was a close thing, my darling, but you saved him. We found you in there pushing his head up above the water. He was out cold. You did a good thing tonight. You kept him alive until we could get to you.’

  Charlotte sobbed with relief. Those final minutes were a blur, apart from the flashing of the orange lights from the lifeboat, and her desperate hope that if she could just keep their heads out of the water for a few more precious minutes, they’d reach them in time. She couldn’t remember anything after that.

  Where was she? As far as she could tell, she was lying down on a stretcher, but she could still see and hear the sea. She forced her eyes into focus and saw that the jetty was to her right. They must have moved her near the lifeboat building, so the ambulances could get to her. Their flashing blue lights illuminated the entire area, overwhelming her.

  ‘Here, we’ve got your phone,’ a female medic said, tucking it at her side. ‘You might need that when you get to hospital. Some guy who’d been walking along the jetty just gave it to one of my colleagues. He said you’d dropped it earlier. It looks like there’s been a lot of people trying to contact you. You’ve a lot of messages waiting.’

  A familiar voice rang out. ‘I’m her husband. Are they both all right? My son’s wrists are red raw; what happened to him?’

  Will appeared at her side, reaching for her hand.

  ‘Charlotte, what the hell happened? Are you okay?’

  She tried to speak again. This time her voice had a little more power.

  ‘They got Olli. Those bastards nearly killed our son. Is he okay?’

  ‘He’s fine. They’re taking him to hospital now. I think you’ll be next in the ambulance. His wrists are raw where they’ve been tied. He looks terrible.’

  ‘They wanted to kill him, Will. They won’t stop, these people. They just won’t stop.’

  ‘I’ve got to tell you something,’ Will began. ‘I know it’s not the best time to say it, but they’re going to take you to hospital, and I won’t be able to speak to you for a while.’

  ‘Tell me,’ she whispered. ‘And check my phone. Lucia might have tried to get in touch.’

  She moved her hand to show him where the phone had been tucked away. Will took it, talking as he began scrolling through the messages.

  ‘I was piecing that photograph together while you were gone. It took me some time, but I got there in the end. That’s what I want to talk to you about. And something you need to know about George, too.

  ‘Why were you speaking to George?’ Charlotte asked, struggling to keep her mind on a single train of thought.

  ‘He came round to collect Isla. While she was setting up the dining room, he sidled up to me and confided in me. Has he spoken to you already? He said you’d been asking lots of questions.’

  ‘No, what is it? I don’t know anything about George. Is he okay?’

  ‘No. He’s had a cancer diagnosis. He doesn’t know how to break the news to Isla. He was asking my advice.’

  ‘Oh no, poor George. I suspected it might be something like that. Poor Isla too, so soon after they found each other. She thought he was hiding something.’

  ‘Don’t be so fast with your sympathy for Isla,’ Will continued, his eyes darting between Charlotte and the phone screen.

  ‘Why ever not?’ she replied, her voice rasping. She just wanted to rest now.

  ‘That photograph, you know the fourth person that you couldn’t identify? The one who was there when that poor girl was being abused or whatever disgusting things they were doing to her? Isla was there. That fourth person is Isla. She knew all about it, Charlotte, and she said nothing.’

  Charlotte closed her eyes and her head sunk into the small pillow that she’d been given for support. She couldn’t take it in; it was too much information, too soon. She needed to rest.

  ‘There’s a voice mail from Lucia,’ Will said, turning back to the phone. ‘I tried to find her with my tracking app earlier, but her phone must have been switched off. Do you use a code on this thing?’

  Charlotte shook her head.

  ‘At least she’s okay. Here, I’ll play it on speaker so you can hear it before they take you to the hospital. At least you’ll know she’s safe.

  Mum? It’s Lucia. I’m sorry, Mum. I should have told you when you asked. I’m in trouble, mum. I need help. Please call me when you get this. I don’t know what they’re going to do to me.

  Find out how the story ends. Order book 3 - Truth Be Told - here

  Author Notes

  Phew! What an adventure for poor old Charlotte. There’s much more to come too; the story isn’t over yet. In the third and final instalment of the trilogy, all the secrets will be revealed and the loose ends tied up. There are a lot of them to sort out too.

  When I wrote Left for Dead, I’d intended to leave it as a standalone. My original intention was to turn the Morecambe Bay books into a series, bringing forward characters like Nigel Davies and DCI Kate Summers to have their own adventures.

  However, when I began the plotting process, I realised that there was a nice trilogy lurking just below the surface. It only took one person to be looking for Bruce Craven - in this case his half-sister - and for Bruce to be involved in something much more sinister than his bad behaviour at Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp - and you’ve got all the makings of a deep, dark story.

  I have now moved well away from the holiday camp location of the first book to draw from Morecambe’s more general landscape. In this book, I make a lot of use of The Midland Hotel, which you can’t miss on any visit to the resort. It sits half-way along the promenade and is an excellent example of art deco styling. Make sure you pop in for afternoon tea if you’re in the area.

  I have a policy w
hen I write thrillers never to feature murders or terrible events in real-life places; I’m not entirely sure the owners would thank me for it. Instead, I save the gruesome bits for fictional locations, like Charlotte and Will’s guest house. Having said that, I did finish off Fred Walker in one of the theatrical boxes at the Winter Gardens. I felt that location, so famous and grand, deserved to have a fictional death based there, I do hope that all theatre lovers will forgive my indulgence.

  I decided to incorporate a parkrun in this book at the suggestion of my wife. Just before I wrote this trilogy, while I was researching locations, we stayed in a guest house on Morecambe front, opposite The Battery, another location which features in this story. Not only is Will and Charlotte’s guest house based upon our stay in this building—I took lots of research photos while we were there—I also took part in the Morecambe parkrun during our stay.

  Being an author is a sedentary lifestyle, so in 2018 I decided to find a way of getting and staying fit. The parkrun is how I chose to do that, and it’s worked out very well for me as a writer; it means I can integrate research trips with Saturday morning runs in all sorts of interesting places.

  The description of parkrun is as accurate as I can make it; it was a great suggestion from my wife incorporating a chase scene in among the runners at a time when Morecambe Promenade is at its most crowded. By the way, if you’re that way inclined, I recommend the free, weekly event in the resort, I hope to run there again sometime soon.

  I was delighted to bring in another character from my Don’t Tell Meg trilogy, this time the enigmatic Steven Terry. Steven features heavily in that short series, and I love his character so much, I was keen to give him a cameo in this book. He and DCI Summers know each other as a consequence of the events that take place in Don’t Tell Meg and having him touring the country allows him to pop up wherever I need him.

  He’s based on a guest we used to have in the studios at BBC Radio Humberside when I worked as a journalist there. I can’t remember the chap’s name now, but I recall a member of staff coming back from speaking to him, shaken by what he’d told her. My wife also used to work with a woman who saw things, and I know that despite her instinctive cynicism, my wife was fascinated by the whole thing and refused to dismiss it as nonsense.